Steam rising from a tea cup,
Her fingers stirring pen.
Thoughts getting over break up
Of fictional intent.

She’s breathing hard,
Her eyes are cold;
Main Heros heart
Is clearly sold.

Words written here are of odd sort,
Just like most fiction drama.
She’s planning of a new resort,
If that would hold much power.

There’s always paths to take and see,
The endless ways of friction.
As mind sucks story further in,
She’s getting “love prediction”.

Locked up in room of rose and dream
Forever reaching forward,
No matter twists of evil “mean”
She’s never being coward.

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